Authors, Writers, Publishers, and Book Readers
Written By: F. John Surells
Here’s a composition about the thoughts, postulations, and speculations one’s presence at a certain location, or one’s sight of a certain object may engender in a mind so easily inspired. And here’s an attempt to organize miscellaneous musings. Oh, I know that one’s imagination can be sent off wondering and wandering due to many stimuli. But only those who really care about the downtrodden wear expensive dresses with meaningless phrases affixed upon them to expensive upper class get-togethers. Yes, I guess taxing the rich more aggressively would solve all of humanity’s problems.
Nonetheless, we know that “I’ve got my eye on you” can be either a remark of admiration or a threat of surveillance. But I suppose it doesn’t always need to be one of those. Sometimes, as when I stroll through the mall, I catch sight of people and things who and which send my mind wheeling. And then, with senses enlivened, I look at those people and things and wonder if I could know all that’s of importance to, or because of them.
And today I’ve just returned from a walk in the mall. And while walking there I met a stranger whom I’ve decided to recommend to our city’s mayor as a possible writer of Part Two of this piece. Oh, he’s only a factory worker he said. And, he has no writing experience. Yet, I told him that Mayor Jennifer had informed me that it was just such a person as he, that he (the mayor) wished to write in this forum soon.
And, I believe I’ll find solace walking in the mall – until leftists ban that activity too. Their goal seems to be that no one, except they themselves, should enjoy any aspect of human life. But, as long as solitary walks are still legal, here’s a dedication to all the instances when sudden encounters with any type of noun (person, place, or thing) engage our imagination, and change our focus from the stage of the current moment, to either previously, or non-previously considered outcomes and/or ramifications of either past actualities, or future possibilities. Yet, everyone’s mind strays from the present from time to time. That’s what you’d say, right? Well, for my sake please consider what follows now to be a meaningful, although perhaps somewhat arrogant retort.
I’d imagine that if these words could accurately and verifiably offer acknowledgement, documentation, and hope of and for the past, present and future, then I’d be permitted to adjudge them useful and constructive. But they can’t alter all that was and is, still, it may be that they can offer assistance to a search for better days to come.
I like to walk in our city’s largest mall, and sometimes I do enter one or more of the stores therein. And thus it was that one day, inside a consignment store within that mall, I came upon the so-called “Green Flower Pot”. And I must admit its dark green color was what first caught my eye. But then I noticed it also had spots of black which seemed to matter greatly in regard to its overall appearance and aura. Yet, initially I thought its price to be too pricey. Still, its allure was too great, so I purchased it. But as I see it now, here at home, I sense it also has a basic presentation devoid of any attributes a wondering mind may try to assign it. And, I also need to admit that I fear it’s not a flower pot at all, but rather some sort of water or tea dispenser which I’m thinking may have been purposely given a misnomer by the “status-quo” so that group of status could then incorrectly identify it as a relic of the 1960’s; you know, “flower” and “pot”.
Oh, and isn’t it strange how the mind can be stimulated by just the sight of artistic glass? I guess our psyches sometimes sense uncompromising qualities within certain artworks, and then feel they need to incorporate those qualities within themselves. But then, whether such incorporation succeeds or fails, the mind, body and soul are often left in search of certainties.
And the particular constant (as I believe it to be) which I usually seize upon then is the fact that all I really know without question is that many people have labored for many years within my city. And yet, though they’ve been productive members of society, many of them have furthered rumors here which in reality have been found out to be either half-truths or outright lies. And, all their work and gossip spreading has been done in a city known for strange and unbelievable occurrences.
And many is the time I’ve recalled how, inside this city, an unforgiving populace has tried to stymie artistic efforts. And when I think back to those occasions, that’s when I realize how small we as creators of, reflectors upon, and witnesses for art all really are! We advocate for right living, but entrenched biases, which usually attack us from the left, always seek to thwart our goodness.
Yet, I’ve also noticed that despite the vast possibilities of miscellaneous thoughts, one’s mind so often focuses upon all that’s actually never been proven or disproven. Therefore, I’ll not fail to speak of a secondary class of momentary considerations. And they consist of the undesirable occurrences of future chaos and trauma which will be caused by the seemingly casual attitude many Americans have adopted in regard to illegal and non-supervised immigration into their nation. What will the future effects be of allowing great numbers of penniless individuals into the United States? Well, in answering that question one must begin by realizing that these people are in poverty today, and in poverty they’ll remain, no matter be it in the U.S. or elsewhere. The only difference is that in America they’ll greatly contribute to the downfall of the Earth’s last real hope against tyranny and human rights violations.
And I can remember that as a child I was often cautioned about “excrement (my word not theirs) peddlers”. My dad, for one, liked to remind whomever he could that a lot of people could hang degrees on their walls, and especially if their educations were paid for by the government, but few could really effect any worthwhile developments in a wicked world. And rest assured, the admonishments given me by him and others back in those years didn’t fall on deaf ears. And I suppose that’s why I so often find myself pondering the drastic future effects of what’s going on in my nation today. But then, of course we can’t expend all our God given time thinking about the past and future; the present needs to be lived.
And so it was that the other day when my phone rang, and our city’s mayor George Jennifer told me he wished me to contribute to this forum at this time, I told him I’d like to “construct” a composition around my recent encounter with The Green Flower Pot, and perhaps entitle it “Presumptions”. And the mayor answered by saying “John, I know you well enough to expect that your initial reaction to almost anything is immediate concern and fear. And while I’ll expect those apprehensions to appear in your written piece, could you also find a working class person to write a Part Two of “Presumptions”?
“I’ll do that,” I said.
But now, from my own personal experiences, I’d like to relate some random disclosures. And I’m sure that by now anyone reading this knows that F. John Surells is very private in his investigations. Nonetheless, he’s been told by various phone callers that he owes various amounts of money to various people for various reasons. And there are various examples of what I’ve just written, but here are my favorites.
Sergeant Wright told me he was organizing a fundraiser for some elementary school kids, and needed a contribution. And Sara said some of my finances were in disarray. And Rick wanted to aid me with Medicare. But I tried to talk to Rick one day, even though he’s a recording. And I told him I’m not really old, and that my body ages in a fashion similar to a manual transmission that’s always in first gear. And I added that although I may move slowly, I know some people who are constantly driven; actually I said “One might say they’re in constant drive.”
But then, on another day, a friend from Manhattan called to tell me he thought America had a new greatest writer now. “Who is it?” I asked.
“His or her name can’t be divulged now” he answered. “Some say he or she is too controversial, and besides, a lot of people here in Manhattan don’t like him or her.”
And I felt then that probably I shouldn’t pursue that matter any further, and instead told my caller friend that recently, in a dream, I’d met a man of prominence. And he’d written the solutions to all of mankind’s problems on a board with chalk. But then a coalition of political and non-political questioners, blamers, gossipers, and liars had confronted him, and had erased the truth he’d transcribed. And then that coalition had told that man that their goal was to brainwash the youth of America. “And when those youngsters grow to adulthood, they’ll then spread our vileness as if it were truth” they’d said.
But my friend responded to this dream disclosure by saying, “You know, I think you’d better be careful. Over here in New York we’ve actually heard about your haughtiness and refusal to live as the ‘status-quo’ instructs. Maybe the time has come for you to change your ways, or your ‘styles’ at least. And remember, most of the really important literary types are liberals.”